Veins of the Forest

### **Chapter 3: Veins of the Forest**

The forest was alive, its heartbeat a deep, resonant thrum that echoed through the air and soil. Trill felt it in his chest with every step, the rhythmic pulse becoming sharper, more demanding. His gaze darted from shadow to shadow, his senses tuned to the smallest disturbance.

Behind him, Bren followed, her footsteps deliberate but cautious. Her battered armor, revealing in places where time and battle had worn it away, caught faint glimmers of light filtering through the dense canopy. She had her sword drawn, her stance defensive.

"This place feels wrong," Bren muttered, her voice low but steady.

"It's more than that," Trill replied without turning. "The forest is watching us."

Bren scowled. "You always this cryptic, or is it just a mountain thing?"

Trill ignored her jab, his hand brushing the rose vines spiraling up his forearm. The thorned tendrils quivered as if sensing the forest's unease.

The rhythmic thumping grew louder, and the forest floor trembled slightly beneath their boots. Trill froze, his sharp eyes narrowing. "It's close."

"What is?" Bren demanded, stepping closer.

Before he could answer, thick roots erupted from the ground, twisting into a cage around them. The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers filled the air, almost overpowering.

From the shadows stepped a figure—a tall woman made of bark and twisting vines. Her glowing green eyes locked onto Trill first, then shifted to Bren.

"A Dryad," Trill murmured, standing slowly.

The Dryad's melodic voice filled the air, sharp and commanding. "Intruders in the Veins of the Forest. Why have you come?"

"We're just passing through," Trill said evenly, his rose vines curling protectively around his wrist.

The Dryad's gaze lingered on him for a moment before turning to Bren. Her expression darkened. "And you bring fire and destruction to my domain?"

Bren's grip on her sword tightened. "I haven't touched your precious forest."

"Your kind always destroys," the Dryad said coldly, her gaze piercing.

"Enough," Trill interjected, stepping between them. "We don't want trouble."

The Dryad's attention returned to Trill, her eyes narrowing. "You are different, child of the mountains. You wield the life of the earth, yet you reek of stone and ice. What are you?"

Trill hesitated, his hand brushing the wooden medallion around his neck. "A wanderer. Someone looking for answers."

The Dryad tilted her head, studying him. "The mountains hold their secrets tightly. Tell me, mountain child, why have you descended?"

Trill's expression hardened. "My family was taken. My home destroyed. I need to find them."

The Dryad's demeanor softened slightly, though suspicion still lingered in her glowing eyes. "A noble purpose, but the Veins demand balance. If I allow you to pass, you must offer something in return."

"What do you want?" Bren asked warily.

The Dryad's voice grew colder. "A blight festers to the east. Corruption spreads from its heart, poisoning the Veins. Cleanse it, and I will provide you with a guide to lead you from my forest."

Bren scoffed. "You mean you're making us do your dirty work."

The Dryad's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You have no room to bargain, flame-bringer. Accept or leave your bones here."

Trill raised a hand, cutting off Bren's retort. "We'll do it."

The Dryad nodded slowly. "Do not fail, mountain child." She dissolved into a swirl of leaves, and the roots surrounding them receded.

###

The air grew colder as they traveled east. The forest grew darker, the trees gnarled and twisted as though recoiling from some unseen force.

Trill knelt frequently, pressing his palm to the earth, feeling the forest's pulse weaken. "We're close," he murmured.

Bren huffed behind him, her sword still in hand. "You didn't tell her everything, did you? About why you're here."

Trill didn't look up. "And you did?"

Bren fell silent, her jaw tightening.

They broke into a clearing, and the stench hit them immediately—a mix of rot and decay so strong it was suffocating. The grove ahead was a nightmare of twisted vegetation. Trees oozed black sap, their branches moving unnaturally. The air pulsed with an ominous energy.

"Found the blight," Bren muttered, her tone grim.

Creatures began to emerge from the corrupted grove—once animals, now twisted abominations. Their glowing yellow eyes fixed on the intruders, their bodies warped by the corruption.

"They don't look friendly," Bren said, raising her sword.

"Stay sharp," Trill said, summoning the rose vines on his arm.

The creatures charged. Trill's vines lashed out, ensnaring one of the abominations and dragging it back. Bren moved with precision, her sword cutting down another.

As the battle raged, Trill's attention flicked to Bren. Her movements were controlled, almost too perfect, and there was a faint shimmer around her—heat rippling like a restrained flame.

"Bren," Trill called sharply, his vines snapping another creature in half. "You're holding back."

"I'm fine," she snapped, her tone defensive.

Trill frowned but didn't press further. Instead, he knelt and placed his hand on the corrupted ground. A shimmer of golden light spread from his palm, and the earth responded. A gelatinous, glowing slime mold began to rise, spreading out like a living map.

"What the hell is that?" Bren asked, cutting down another creature.

"A warning," Trill replied, his eyes narrowing. The slime mold oozed toward the remaining abominations, its golden tendrils pulsing faintly.

The creatures hesitated, their movements faltering as the mold crept closer. The light grew brighter, forcing them back into the shadows.

Trill stood, his voice calm but firm. "If you've got more to give, now's the time."

Bren's jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, the air grew heavier, hotter. She took a deep breath, and the heat shimmer faded, though her grip on her sword remained tight.

The largest of the abominations lunged, and Trill reacted instantly. His rose vines shot out, tangling around its limbs. He gestured sharply, and the slime mold surged forward, enveloping the creature in glowing tendrils.

The abomination writhed, letting out a guttural scream before dissolving into black sludge.

The grove fell silent, the oppressive energy lifting as the corruption receded.

Trill let out a slow breath, his rose vines retracting. "It's done. The forest will heal now."

Bren sheathed her sword, though her expression was troubled. "That slime of yours... it's unsettling."

"It's nature," Trill said simply. "Not everything about it is pretty."

Bren crossed her arms. "You're not telling me everything."

Trill glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Neither are you."

The forest seemed to sigh around them, and Trill knew the Dryad would be waiting. But as they made their way back, his thoughts lingered on Bren's restrained power. She was hiding something, and the heat she radiated hinted at a force she didn't fully trust herself to use.

In this forest of secrets, she was another mystery he wasn't sure he could afford to ignore.